Marked
by kerigocrazy
Summary: "Do you understand? This. This is everything. My body to your body. We're tied so closely the world could burn and it wouldn't f*cking matter." When Sam, whose whole world revolves around Leah Clearwater, imprints on her cousin his life implodes. Sam/Emily. Pre-twilight forward. MA.
1. Chapter 1: The Imprint

**Disclaimer: **_All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._

**A/N:** Thanks to my fantabulous beta Maria Vilson for helping me wade through the muck. Warnings ahead for a bit of citrus (if you're under eighteen walk away) and a large dose of foul language (blame Sam, I do).

Chapter 1

_Sam's POV_

He felt his responsibilities like a physical weight pressing down on his broad shoulders, constricting around the ever steady beat of his heart. Digging his bare feet into the dirt, he breathed in the smoke from the bonfire down the beach, attempting to center himself.

Leah was there, he knew. And she, who understood nothing about this unbearable weight, was the only one who could help him carry it. Another deep breath in, and he was moving toward the fire, feet matching the pounding rhythm of the waves that crashed along the rocky shore.

And there, there she was. Her skin lit by the fire, and those sharp cheekbones pointed toward lips he'd had wrapped around his dick just two hours past. He moved toward her as if she were reeling him in, moving effortlessly through the crowd without seeing a single person other than her. Her. It was always, only her. His Leah.

Finally, he was there, and a smile graced those beautiful lips in welcome. "Sam," she breathed, brushing a small hand down the hot skin of his forearm. "This is my cousin Emily."

It took him a second to realize there was another woman in the vicinity; he was so wrapped up in her scent—cinnamon and apples—and the way her hand continued to rub up and down, up and down. He was picturing those hands tangled in his hair as he drank her in. Eating her was like burying his face in a fresh baked apple pie.

"Sam?" Leah smirked as she watched his eyes focus back in. "I'm trying to introduce you to my cousin."

He turned, reaching out with a giant, burning hand, and met the eyes of one Emily Young. Sam's heart, with its once steady beat, stuttered and then raced wild as his world fell apart and reformed around this woman, this stranger whose tiny hand now rested in his own.

For a moment, he heard her breath hitch, and he knew then that she felt it too. He watched, rapt, as a soft blush climbed her chest to her face. So beautiful.

It was minutes, hours, an eternity before he even remembered Leah. His Leah, whom he'd planned to marry one day, was still standing there beside them. He knew he should let go, turn back, but he ached at just the thought; and, though he could feel the guilt and anger flowing somewhere down deep, the imprint, _fuck_, the imprint was drowning out the world.

They'd told him this could happen, Billy Black and Leah's own father Harry, but they'd said it was rare. So rare he was the first wolf to phase and here he was drooling over his fiancé's cousin. His whole body was straining toward her now, and his wolf was at attention, ready to take her, make her his.

"Sam," Leah prodded, agitation now coloring her tone. "You can let her go now."

So he did, wrenching his hand free, ignoring the searing pain in his chest. He turned to look back at Leah and felt a whole new pain brand him as he saw a blur in the place of what once was the only clear thing in his world. He tried, desperately, to remember how it felt to be inside of her, but his wolf fought him, clawing him up from the inside. Not our mate. Not ours. Sam wanted to cry.

"Sorry," he muttered, hands fisted at his sides as a silent reminder not to grab his new mate and run. "I'm not feeling so hot, Leah."

She brushed her hand across his face in a loving caress, and he swallowed a mouthful of vomit. "You're pretty warm."

"Yeah, I think I'll go crash for awhile."

"Want me to come?" Leah asked.

"No," he almost shouted. "No it's fine. I'm fine. Stay here and have fun. It was, um, nice to meet you Emily. I'm sure I'll see you again."

He turned around without another word and ran.

XXXXXXXXXX

It was only an hour before Sam couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't breathe; he needed her. Following the pull, he raced, silent and half-feral, through the night. He found her, smelling of the sea breeze, standing on the edge of the cliffs above first beach.

Fisting her midnight locks in one hand, she turned to face him. "What's happening to me?"

"You're Makah?"

She nodded.

"Have you heard the Quileute legends? Specifically the ones about spirit wolves?" He stalked her as he waited for her answer, keeping a choke hold on his salivating wolf.

She lifted a brow, the rest of her face remaining expressionless, and asked, "Are you saying they're true? You're a, what, a werewolf?" A hint of incredulous laughter rolled across her face, but he could see, beneath it, that she believed; she could feel the truth weighing on her, breaking down any defense she might have had to the ties that were binding them together.

"Yes. Well a shifter but yes."

A moment of silence then, "What does that have to do with me?"

"You're my imprint." He stood only a foot away from her now. "My soul mate. The moment I met your eyes, nothing else mattered. You became my world."

He could see in her eyes that she knew. Oh she could feel it, but her voice was harsh when she asked, "What about Leah?"

"There's nothing but you anymore." He was on her before she could reply, a hand wrapped around the back of her neck, the other cupping her ass, and his mouth catching hers just as it opened, moist heat against moist heat.

She didn't fight him. Instead she clung to his broad shoulders and kissed him back, moaning from the feel of him, so big and warm against her.

He drew his mouth away so they could breathe and trailed his lips down the side of her neck. "Do you understand? This. This is everything. My body to your body. We're tied so closely the world could burn and it wouldn't fucking matter."

"Y-yes," she stuttered, breath heaving and body shuddering.

"Good." Giving her no time to think, he spun her around and pulled her in tight, grinding her ass against the hard line of his cock. "I'm going to fuck you now. Claim you. Make you mine. Say yes."

"But—"

"Say yes." He whispered against her neck, lifting the hem of her dress with his rough fingers, brushing closer and closer to her heat. He inhaled and groaned. "I can smell you."

"Yes."

He picked her up then, one hand buried between her thighs, the other banded under her small breasts, and walked her to a nearby grove of trees. Setting her back down, he leaned forward and set his teeth around the back of her neck, letting out a growl that vibrated her entire spine.

She moaned and pushed her hips back. "Don't move." He grabbed her hips and squeezed in warning before sliding his hands back around and ripping her panties off. "Bend forward, place your hands on the tree, and don't fucking move."

She did, arching her back and lifting her ass for him.

"Good girl."

He lifted the dress to her waist, shuddering as her scent hit him again. "Fuck." He went straight for what he wanted, shoving two thick fingers into her heat.

"Sam," she cried, rocking back against his fingers.

"Be still," he muttered, slapping her ass, then palming her now red cheek, as he watched his fingers plunge in and out; she was swallowing him whole.

He pulled his fingers out and sucked, moaning at the taste, as he fumbled with his zipper. He leaned forward and ripped the front of her dress, so he could reach her breasts, rubbing the palms of his hands over her rigid nipples before squeezing and pinching, and fuck it, he slammed inside in one fast thrust.

"Yeah," he grunted, slamming in again. The sound of his balls hitting her ass joined her wails, and his rasping breath, and _goddamn_ it was so good. He was so deep inside of her, his mate. And she was screaming now.

"Fuck yeah. Scream baby." He grabbed her throat and pulled her back against him, snaking his other hand down to her clit. "Do you want to come?"

"Please." She was whimpering now splayed wide against the force of his thrusts, moaning incoherently as he pinched and pulled at her clit.

"Say it. Say you're mine."

"I-I—"

"Say it," he roared, dropping them both to their knees and pushing her face forward as he rammed into her.

"Yours! I'm yours," she screamed, as he hit that spot deep inside of her.

He saw white as he came, teeth buried in the back of her neck, dick jerking wildly, wrapped in her heat. They collapsed there, side by side on the forest floor.

"You're mine," he repeated.

"Yes."

XXXXXXXXXX

The walk down from the cliffs was silent, full of sideways glances and almost touches. Everything was right and wrong at the same time. Sam, the man, was howling, beating at the bars of this cage, but the wolf, he was quiet, still and sated.

When they reached his small, white house, he turned toward her, intending to say what he didn't know. He was interrupted though by a small shadow unfolding on the front porch.

Leah. It was Leah, and he could smell her tears from across the yard. His wolf was awake now, agitated as it pushed him to stand in front of Emily, whose head was down, hands clutching the top of her dress together.

"What the fuck, Sam?" Leah hit the porch railing with a shaky fist. Her shoulders were hunched over, arms wrapped tight around her. "I came—I came to check on you, because you were supposed to be sick. But you're...with my cousin?"

"I—" He what? What was he supposed to say? I'm sorry, so sorry but I just fucked your cousin against a tree, and now we're gonna spend our lives popping out puppies, while I chase vampires in circles? "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? Sorry? You gave me your grandmother's wedding ring, Sam. And Emily, we're family. What the _fuck_?"

He could smell his imprint's tears, her whole body wracked with fine tremors, and his wolf was vibrating now. Deep down, Sam remembered that he'd loved her, god how he'd loved her. But that love was all twisted up now with the guilt and the anger and the bile rising in the back of his throat and Emily.

Everything was twisted up in Emily.

Sorry. He was so sorry, but there were no words to make it better. No way to even regret without strangling himself in the bond.

He looked up to see that Leah had moved to stand in front of him. Her face streaked with tears, she stretched up and pressed her mouth to his, and as he vomited on her shoes, so close to slipping his skin, she kicked him in the nuts and ran.

The phase, the wolf, was coming he could feel it, so he struggled to move away. _Don't hurt Emily_. His wolf agreed, but it wanted out. And then the battle was lost for him.

"She's right," Emily said, voice small and shaky. "I'm supposed to be her family and I just had sex with her fiancé. We can't do this Sam."

Oh god, he was choking on air. Her rejection flowed across the bond like venom, searing his skin in its wake, and without his permission the wolf tore free. His bones broke and shifted, realigned, and when he opened his eyes, there stood his Emily, blood pouring from wounds made by his claws.


	2. Chapter 2: Stitches

**Disclaimer: **_All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._

**A/N:** Thanks to my fantabulous beta Maria Vilson for helping me wade through the muck and to my awesome Prereader for helping me avoid a myriad of plot holes and keeping me aware of Twi-canon. Warnings ahead for some citrusy flavored thoughts (if you're under eighteen walk away) and a large dose of foul language (blame Sam, I do).

"Marked"

Chapter 2

_Sam's POV_

240 stitches.

13 days since he'd walked on two feet.

1,000 apologies that he'd never give because there was nothing good enough, nothing that could make this better.

One new brother, called to his pain, and damned if that didn't make him want to kill himself all over again. Not to mention the fact that, his head...yeah, that was no place to be right now, but Jared Cameron—poor bastard—had spent the last thirteen days trapped in the hell that was his mind, all while trying to figure out why the fuck he was running on four paws instead of two feet.

Sam tried. He tried desperately to be the Alpha he knew he needed to be for his brother, playing their legends in his head, explaining their purpose. The elders had been clear that as the first to phase it was his honor, no his _duty _to lead his pack of brothers. Temporarily, at least. But it was all mixed in with Emily, and her blood, and the fact that he was the one who'd hurt her. A roiling mass of self-loathing built heavier and heavier in his stomach; he wondered if he'd ever be free, now, from the guilt and the anger.

He'd thought, before the imprint, that his phase was the worst there would be. His brothers, he'd thought, would have _him_ to make things go smoother. Sam didn't remember much clearly, but he had vivid pictures of black fur matted and full of painful burrs and leaves. He still feel the exhaustion; two weeks of running, panic coursing through his new form, had left him staggering at the end, his head so heavy he could barely lift it off the ground. There had been no one to share his pain, only the council, who found him at the end of two long, terrifying weeks attempting to explain why he had sprouted fur and morphed into a giant wolf.

Jared phased in the middle of an argument with his little sister, just making it past the tree line in an attempt to get away before he exploded, not realizing that his body was about to do that—literally. Sam should have been expecting it; he'd been warned, and the signs in Jared and Paul Lahote were clear to those who knew what to look for.

It was precisely 34 minutes before Sam realized he wasn't alone in his head anymore. He was so wrapped up in a haze of pain that Jared lost himself as well. It took two days before he was coherent enough to help. Two days, his brother wandered lost in the fucked up maze of his mind.There were no words to take back Jared's horrible entrance this world.Nothing to do but apologize and focus on helping him realize his new fate.

After chasing a spazzed out wolf for miles and convincing him to lay down and listen, he did his best to exude authority and tell the tales of his ancestors with the gravity they had been told to him. The only difference for Jared, who already knew the tales, was that this time they were true. Through the mind link, Sam showed Jared the memories that had come to him upon his first shift.

Strong teeth biting into marble flesh. Fire and smoke and the pungent smell of a final death. _This is a vampire. And, this is how you kill one. _

_Our enemies sparkle in the sun?_ Jared's mental voice oozed with incredulity.

_Yes._

And so it went; for hours they lay facing each other on the forest floor, two young men in the shape of horse-sized wolves sharing the burden of their tribe's safety, knowing that they would not be the last to phase. The very last legend that Sam told, one Jared hadn't heard before, was the one about imprinting. He tried, desperately, to keep his situation with Emily off his mind but it didn't work, and it played through the pack mind in angst-ridden Technicolor.

_Go talk to her, man. You can't keep doing this to yourself. And Jesus, you've gotta eat something. _A flash of him and how much weight he'd lost filtered into his mind.

_Not now Jared. I can't…I just can't. I'm sure she doesn't want to see me anyway. Fuck. My imprint, my supposed soul mate, and I scarred her for life. _

_Yeah, but she _is_ your imprint; if anyone is gonna be able to understand, it's her. That's how it works right? She's your perfect match._

Yeah, she was. Images of the reddened curve of her ass, the sweet heat of her pussy enveloping him, the way her mouth fell open as she came flew through his mind.

_Christ, man. First off, that was…hot. Secondly, you obviously have some insane chemistry; your bodies know what to do. All you can do now is apologize. _He ran over those memories again. _And maybe don't wear a shirt. If you can get her to forget she's pissed, you might have a shot._

_Idiot. Just let it go._

_But—_

_I said let it go! _The large brown wolf cowered down under the weight of his Alpha's command, body hunched in attempt to get as low as possible.

With one last snarl, Sam phased for the first time in thirteen days. He was weak from hunger, his skin pulled tight across roping lines of sinew and bone. No crying, he decided. Men didn't cry; if his absentee father had taught him anything it was that, but he'd never wanted to as much as he did now.

No, instead he decided to turn creeper and stalk his imprint, who was finally out of the hospital and trapped in a silent standoff at Leah's house. Awkward.

XXXXXXXXXX

_Emily's POV_

No one visited her in the hospital. She didn't really expect them to. But as she lay, mired in the pain of her wounds, she felt the bond pulling her toward him.

It was two weeks of silence.

When her aunt Sue came to pick her up, she could see the censure in her eyes, read the anger in the small, tense lines of her face. _I'm sorry,_ she thought but didn't say. A small, childish part of her wanted to scream that it wasn't her fault; she didn't choose this, choose him.

Instead she sat in the wheelchair like she was told and climbed into the passenger seat of Sue's car without a word. Leah deserved the apology. She wouldn't accept it though, Emily knew. She should get one anyway.

And Sue was Leah's mother. It didn't matter that her husband Harry remained the only link to her own mother, that it was Sue who rocked her through her grief after her death and slept beside her in the tiny twin bed when the nightmares came to her in the dark. She didn't belong to her and Leah needed her.

Feeling the pull, but ignoring it, Emily stared at the passing trees and let her mind drift back to her childhood. Remembered when she had a mother and a father who loved her. When boys had cooties and Leah was her best friend. She remembered, so vividly, when happiness suffused her and smiling was easy.

Silence and pain.

XXXXXXXXXX

_Sam's POV_

There was a part of him that wanted to pussy out and spend the rest of his life camping outside as a wolf. He could satisfy the bond that way, his inner coward argued. Emily could be happy; she'd never have to see him again. And really, why would she want to? This, he decided, was brilliant.

His wolf, however, vetoed that plan, refusing to come out and play. A vampire could saunter up and drain half the Rez in front of him, and he'd be stuck watching like a dumbass while his wolf cringed in the corner.

Sighing, he focused on the bond and followed it around the side of the house. She was sitting, swathed in white bandages, staring out over the Clearwater's garden. The scent of blooming lilacs mixed with her own of sea salt and sunshine. Beautiful, she was so beautiful. He wanted nothing more than to fall at her feet, but he was terrified of being rejected. Again.

Terrified to touch her lest he hurt her. Again.

"Hello, Sam," she whispered, without turning her head.

"Emily—" he choked out.

"Don't." She took a deep breath in and closed her eyes. "So, I'm guessing there's no way out of this then?"

Cringing from the hurt of her words he replied, "If we separate completely, it will…um…hurt. It could cause more than pain; we could get really sick…or worse. But we don't have to have...um...a relationship, or anything. I—I understand how that would be impossible now." _Jesus, man, get it together. _He felt like he'd time traveled back to the land of puberty, those humiliating years of cracked voices and stuttered words.

"So it's just physical closeness?" Her shoulders were drawn back rigidly, as she sat pin-straight on the small, stone bench, staring vacantly at the yard before her.

He sat on the ground, careful to keep a good distance between them. "Physical closeness will satisfy the bond, yes. I can be whatever you want me to be Emily, friend, brother, lover. This is always your choice, as much as there is a choice I mean."

He watched her as she processed his words, drinking in the small changes in expression that swept across the unbandaged half of her face. It was fascinating, the way everything stayed so still except for the small wrinkle of her brow here, and the tightening of her lips there. He found himself wanting to know her. Why had _she _been chosen for him? What made her his other half? _Why not Leah_, a small voiced whispered from the very back of his mind. And didn't that feel like pouring fucking molten lava down his throat. He breathed through the pain and focused back on Emily.

"They say I've probably lost the vision in my left eye," she said. "And there will be scars."

_Taha Aki, help me_ he begged silently. "I'm so sorry."

"Can you handle that?" she asked, body gone still. "You'll have to look at me, everyday, and see this." The violent sweep of a delicate hand punctuated her statement.

Praying she meant he had a chance to fix this, if it was even possible to fix this, he nodded. "Yes. Whatever you need. Anything."

She inhaled shakily and looked him in the eye for the first time. "Alright then. I can't stay here—with Leah. It's uncomfortable for the whole family, and it's not fair to her. I'll have to come stay with you."

"I—" The man remained unsure, but the wolf, the wolf knew exactly what they needed. A growled _mine_ seemed to vibrate his entire body; no matter how much guilt it caused, he wanted nothing more than to know that she rested, safe and content, beneath his roof. _She was his._

"Problem?"

"No!" Problem? Fuck his wolf was ready to kiss her feet. He was just confused. "That's fine. Perfect. You can have the guest room?" It came out as a question and he wanted to kick himself, like she was going to climb right into his damn bed.

Her voice devoid of even a thread of emotion, she said, "I think that's best for now."

An uncomfortable silence settled between them. There seemed to be nothing left to say. No words to fix the invisible minefield that lay between them. Nothing to make this situation anything less than a total clusterfuck.

And so, thirteen days after Sam Uley scarred his imprint for life, she moved quietly and unobtrusively into his home.


	3. Chapter 3: Karma

**Disclaimer: **_All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._

_**A/N:** Thanks to my fantabulous beta Maria Vilson for helping me wade through the muck and to my awesome prereader feebes 86 for helping me avoid a myriad of plot holes and keeping me aware of Twi-canon. Warnings ahead for some citrusy flavored thoughts (if you're under eighteen walk away) and a large dose of foul language (blame Sam, I do)._

"Marked"

Chapter 3

_Emily's POV_

Pain.

Emily Young felt buried under a maelstrom of emotion, but mostly what she felt was pain. The deep ache of her body's new scars. The piercing sorrow of knowing that she was destroying her family. The bitter knowledge that fate had made her choices for her. Leah. That relationship was so torn, she'd probably never be able to fix it. And what was she supposed to tell her father, the man who'd raised her for half her life alone, while silently mourning the death of her mother? He was going to be so ashamed.

If there was one thing she'd always been sure of, it had been her father's pride in her. After an aneurism burst in her mother's brain, taking her away from them when Emily was only eight years old, every accomplishment she made became something to celebrate. She figured out, later, that much of it was relief that she turned out okay, with only him there to raise her. No matter how embarrassing she found it to have her own actions parroted back at her by random council members, it showed just how much he cared.

When she was younger, she'd wanted nothing more than to get away from the Makah reservation, to improve her community by furthering her education and fighting for their rights from somewhere far away. Away from the painful memories. In the end, she'd found some measure of peace in the invisible walls that appeared to hem her in. But she'd traded one cage for another, and now she danced with this strange, dangerous man in a heavy silence as they tried to fit two broken puzzle pieces together.

It didn't work.

There were gaping holes and wounded silences; she felt like the bond was a cable, strung so tight it could snap and take them both with it at any moment. She was out of her depth. So far away from any definition of normal she could understand.

She had thought about running back home, ignoring the mess she'd created here and sinking back into the life she shared with her father as if nothing had changed. The suffocating feeling of the pull from the hospital reminded her that the distance would be impossible. There was no escaping fate. So, she'd been living with Sam for two days now, and they'd spoken a total of four words to each other. She'd said "hello" and he'd nodded. He'd said "goodbye" and she'd waved. And late in the night, he'd whispered "I'm sorry" as she lay down to go to sleep. It was unnerving, and she was so scared to make him angry. So scared of the beast that lived inside of him.

But Emily was no coward; this man would be in her life forever, and it was obviously up to her to make this work. She watched him, when she thought he wasn't looking, attempting to learn the man chosen to be hers. She saw how his body followed her as she moved, muscles shifting slightly from shoulders to toes every time she so much as twitched. At night, when she got up to use the restroom or get a drink, she could hear him moving restlessly in his sleep, as if he could feel her moving further away.

She found herself itching sometimes to touch him. His hair, which he'd shorn close to his head on the back porch, called to her fingers. She remembered the way his body dominated hers, the way he felt inside of her. For the first time in her whole life, she'd felt complete. He had fit inside her as if he was made to be there, and she guessed he was.

She wished he'd look her in the eyes, wished that night had ended with the sex and not the bleeding. Wished for so much more than what she had, but she'd make do. She always did. Being raised as an only child by a single parent had provided her with a crash course in survival. When money was tight, she learned how to make laundry detergent and dish soap, stretched meat as thin as she possibly could to put meals on the table, and learned how to sew invisible patches on clothes that had been handed down from a kind-hearted neighbor. She knew, though, through it all that her father loved her. Just the two of them.

Her introspection was interrupted by the sound of howls. One, then two, then three. A new wolf had phased. She rose up from her seat and went inside to start breakfast; if there was one thing she had learned about living with a shape shifter, it was that they needed to eat almost constantly.

Rifling through the cabinets, she came up with a can of refried beans and a half stick of butter from the refrigerator. She needed to go grocery shopping. The bandages covering her scars made her pause for a moment; she knew that people would stare at the woman who'd been supposedly attacked by a bear. _Not a coward_, she reminded herself.

A deep breath in, and she headed out the door to make the short drive to the general store. When she entered, it was mostly silent, just a lone woman manning the cash register and a pair of teenage girls perusing the magazine aisle. Shoulders back, she grabbed a cart and moved toward the meat, thinking that hamburger was cheap and versatile. _Maybe some spaghetti for dinner? _

Her cart was mostly full before she realized that the teenagers were talking about her.

"That's her," one said, flipping her dark hair behind her shoulder. "The slut who fucked Leah's man at the last bonfire."

"She's not that cute. I wonder what he was thinking? I mean how much of a backstabber do you have to be to do that to your own cousin?"

The first girl nodded in agreement and said, "It gets better though. I heard she moved in with him already. She has to be pregnant right? Maybe they've been having an affair before now and they just got caught. Leah must be totally broken."

Emily cringed and tried to block them out. She knew, when she agreed to stay, that this would be the result. The Clearwater's were a beloved family on the Rez and she'd usurped the the youngest (and therefore the most eligible) council member of their tribe from the daughter of an elder. No matter that she was half-Quileute herself. That her mother was Harry Clearwater's sister. She was the clear enemy in this situation, and her dead mother's heritage would hold no sway over the people who lived here.

Their voices seemed to be rising the further away she got, so she heard the end of their conversation quite clearly.

"I heard she was attacked by a bear in Leah's backyard."

"Yeah?" the second girl snorted. "Well, karma's a bitch."

Hands shaking, Emily pushed her cart to the register and paid for her purchases in silence, desperate to hold it together until she could break apart in private. The woman ringing her up looked anywhere but at her face the entire time she stood there. _Just get back to Sam's. _

The ride home was a blur, tears clouding her vision and clogging her throat. There was no fixing this situation; she couldn't tell people about the imprint, couldn't exonerate herself in the eyes of her new community. She would live the rest of her life as the slut who stole her cousin's man, and if she were honest with herself, if she looked beneath the bond, she knew that she thought the same thing. No better than they said; she didn't fight hard enough or soon enough, and now they were all left with nothing but pain and the taste of bitter ashes on their tongues.

_Karma _is _a bitch._

XXXXXXXXXX

_Sam's POV_

Sam had taken to patrolling almost ten hours a day, although he strayed close to his house once an hour, just to make sure she was okay. He wanted, desperately, to fix their problems but didn't know how; he never knew what to say.

So he ran in circles, tried to hide his thoughts from Jared, and found himself almost praying for a vampire to show up so he'd have an excuse to make something bleed. When Paul Lahote phased, Sam was almost grateful for the distraction of a mind that seemed even more fucked up than his own.

The pack mind was assaulted by wild images of anonymous sex, being beaten by a never-ending line of anonymous men, and abject confusion at his current furry state of being.

_Calm down, Paul. _The alpha timber of his words rolled through the pack mind, causing Paul to settle down immediately. _You've phased into a wolf, a protector of our tribe as the legends state. I'm Sam Uley, your Alpha._

_What the fuck? Those legends are supposed to be bullshit. And they didn't say a damn thing about anyone being able to read my mind! _A low growl came from deep in his chest and Sam could almost see a rebellion building. _Alpha? You aren't _my _Alpha. Whatever the hell that is._

Snickers rolled through their heads from Jared. _I think this one's got a worse potty mind than you Sam._

_Jared? _Paul asked, even more confused than before.

_Sup, man? _

_What the fuck ever. How do I get back to feet instead of paws? _

_Damn, man. Stop moving and we'll explain. _Jared shook his head; Paul, who'd been spinning in circles trying to see himself was making them all dizzy. He showed Paul a picture of his wolf form, lithe and silver-furred. _This is what you look like._

_I'm still sexy. _A close up view of his dick ran through their minds.

Jared snorted. _You ain't seen nothing yet, my man. The wolfy mojo comes with some fuck awesome benefits._

_Enough. _It came out an Alpha command; he couldn't take any more of _that. _Sam shook his head and settled down to give his new pack mate the basics. In the midst of explaining the mechanics of shifting into a wolf, Sam felt the bond tighten around his throat with a rough jerk. _Emily. Something's wrong._

_Who's Emily? _Paul asked.

A rush of pictures poured through their minds. Cinnamon colored breasts and hair that felt like silk. Eyes hard with determination and a face covered with blood.

_Dude she's hot. What's wrong with her face. _A snarl ripped through Paul's mind, and he was pretty sure he came a little to close to dying with that statement.

_She's mine. _And he took off, phasing at the edge of his yard. He felt her inside, realizing quickly that her distress was emotional, not physical. He didn't know what to do; crying women freaked him right the fuck out, but the imprint was demanding that he fix the problem. _Not a coward, _he told himself. He squared his shoulders and marched inside to find out who he needed to kill to make the crying stop.

"Emily?" he called, as he walked wearily through the door. He found her curled up on the couch. Her whole, tiny body was racked with sobs. "What's wrong baby?"

"I just…I can't…it's too hard. Everybody hates me, and I miss home, and I don't know what I'm doing. What am I supposed to be doing?"

He could feel his wolf rising to the surface, pissed off that someone had obviously hurt his mate. "Tell me what happened."

Pulling her knees in closer to her chest, she did. "Maybe they were right. Maybe this is karma."

"Bullshit," he barked, shaking now in rage.

She looked up, startled by his tone, and that's when Sam saw the fear in her eyes; she was _scared_ of him. The woman who was now his reason for living was scared of him. He wanted to stay, to make her feel better, to hunt down the bitches who made her cry, but the pain from her fear almost brought him to his knees, so with a whispered, "I'm sorry," he ran. Again.


	4. Chapter 4: A Reason to Smile

_**Disclaimer: **All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._

_**A/N:** Thanks to my fantabulous beta Maria Vilson for helping me wade through the muck and to my awesome prereader feebes 86 for helping me avoid a myriad of plot holes and keeping me aware of Twi-canon. Warnings ahead for some citrusy flavored thoughts (if you're under eighteen walk away) and a large dose of foul language (blame Sam, I do)._

"Marked"

Chapter 4_  
_

_Sam's POV_

Sam sat, hunched over and completely still, on his small front porch, listening as Emily dialed first four, then five, then six numbers before hanging up the phone each time. Her anxiety twisted around him like an invisible rope, so he experienced her panic attack right along with her as she hung up again, sucking in a slow, shuddering breath.

He found himself silently cheering her on, and when the phone finally started to ring he almost collapsed in relief. No matter that he had no idea who she was trying to call; he just didn't know how much more of her nervousness he could take.

"Hello?" A man's voice, older and husky, drifted out of the phone.

His wolf perked up. _Danger! Danger Will Robinson! This is most definitely not cool_.

"Dad...it's me."

Sam exhaled and settled back to shamelessly eavesdrop on his imprint. In all honesty, he was at a loss as to how else he was supposed to get to know her. They still barely spoke to one another, and after his last brilliant runaway moment, he had decided to roll with the whole coward motif and skulk in the corners like a creepy stalker.

"What the hell's going on down there Em? I just got a hysterical phone call from Sue saying you moved in with Leah's man? And something about a bear attack? Are you alright, baby girl? Please tell me Sue got it wrong."

"Oh." Emily let out a ragged sob. "I—I'm so sorry Dad. Um, there was a bear attack, but I'm okay, just some stitches.

"Why the hell didn't anybody call me?"

"I asked them not to, Dad. I didn't want you to worry over something that's not that big a deal; you know you can't afford to take anymore time off work."

It sounded, momentarily, like her father was choking, but he quickly got it under control. "Are you sure you're okay? I mean, a bear? What were you doing in the woods, kid?"

"You know most of the properties border on the woods here, Dad. I was on the path in the Clearwater's backyard and it just, came out of nowhere, I guess. It happened so fast. As for Sam, we didn't mean it, but...that's no excuse. Um, I don't know what to say."

"What exactly are you trying to tell me, Em?"

There was a long silence that made Sam twitch before the conversation continued.

"I'm not coming back." Her voice came out in a determined monotone now. "Sue was telling the truth, and I'm sorry, but this is how it has to be."

God, she was strong. For the first time since he'd imprinted, Sam prayed he could eventually be worthy of this woman.

"Emily Qahla* Young, this is not how you were raised. What would your mother say?"

_Fuck_, Sam could feel her, and she was breaking. _I'm so sorry, baby._

"Um, I think it might be better if you packed up my stuff and I'll call some movers to come out and get it. If…" She was forced to pause and swallow back the rising tears; she was trying, so desperately, to hold herself together. "If you could pack up my workshop yourself I'd appreciate it; they'll probably mess it all up—"

"Emily—"

"I'm sorry. I can't. I'm going to go now. Dinner and all, but I hope we can talk soon. Love you, Daddy."

The click of the phone sounded like a death knell through the small house, and Sam knew the sound of Emily's sobs would haunt him for some time to come. He could feel his body rising to go to her, to offer whatever form of comfort she would take, but he was startled out of stealth mode by the arrival of his amused beta.

"What the hell are you doing, Sam?"

"Shut the fuck up, Jared." Sam pushed him frantically toward the wood bordering his property, checking over his shoulder all the way.

Snickering under his breath, Jared allowed himself to be herded. "Creeper. Was she crying? What'd you do this time?"

"Nothing." Sam sighed and threw himself down in a shady patch of grass, out of sight of the house but close enough to hear her. She might need him. "She just got off the phone with her Dad. Told him about us."

Jared winced as he settled down on a crumbling log next to his Alpha. "I'm guessing you're not at the top of Daddy Dearest's favorite person list?"

"Yeah, no."

"What are you gonna do?"

Wiping a large hand down his face, he shrugged. "Hell man, I don't know. This whole thing is so fucked up, and if I had just kept my eyes away from hers everything would be okay. My life was shot the day I turned into a giant wolf, but Emily, Emily didn't deserve this. She's an outcast within her own family; her father thinks she randomly decided to sleep with her cousin's fiancé. And Leah? One day I'm telling her she's the only thing in my world and then—bam—I can't even see her anymore. I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

Jared looked at him, face calm, and said, "Emily's it for you, right? I mean, there's never gonna be anyone else. She's your happily ever after and all that shit, right?"

"Yeah. That's the imprint."

"Then you have to stop being such a fucking pussy and man up."

Sam whipped his head around and growled. His wolf was practically screaming: _insubordination! Squash that shit! _ "Excuse me?"

"You're wandering around like an idiot, waiting for her to take the initiative. Do you really think that's gonna happen? You just dumped a ton of mystical fuckery in her lap, and on the very same day your wolf breaks free and attacks. So, dude, man up and get to know her. Woo her and let her know you want her."

Jared's words pissed Sam off beyond belief, but if he pushed his Alpha male ego aside, he could see the truth in them. "Woo her? I've never had to do the romance shit man. Leah…she was just always there. Always right beside me. What do I do?"

"What does she like?"

"She mentioned something about a workshop on the phone with her Dad. Maybe I could figure out what kind of workshop and build one for her here?"

"It's a start man, it's a start. And you know, don't forget the classics."

"The classics?"

"Yeah, dude, chocolate and edible panties."

Sam barked out a laugh and turned his face up to the sky. The two wolves went silent, enjoying an easy comradery as Sam worked out how to go about ｷoｯing his imprint.

XXXXXXXXXX

It was almost an entire week before Sam figured out the whole workshop thing, and it had nothing to do with his superb sleuthing skills (cause, yeah, he was rolling in tｨose). As he passed her by, headed out to a morning patrol, he noticed her carving a block of wood.

"What's that? He thought his heart would stop when her eyes met his; smacking his inner pansy, he tried to pretend like a single look from her wasn't bringing him to his knees.

"Hmm?" She looked up and smiled slightly. "It's going to be a whale."

"You carve a lot?"

She shrugged a slim shoulder and focused back in on her piece. "I sell them online and every year during Makah days. I do okay."

Inside he was frantically fist pumping, but he gave a stoic nod and continued walking down the steps. "I'll be home late, training with Paul. Have a great day."

"You too, Sam. You too."

He spent the entire day planning and scheming, and when he got home he raced straight out back to see if he could make one of his sheds work. He'd seen the space Jacob Black had set aside to work with wood, so he had a vague idea of what would be needed. The only snag in his plan was her father. Good old Daddy was packing her stuff up, and he had a feeling it wouldn't be a great idea to call and ask about her craft tools.

Instead, Sam went on a bit of a scavenger hunt around the Rez, collecting, begging, and unearthing everything his Emily could possibly need to work on her art. He knew that so much of what had happened to them and between them was his fault, and no matter how much anger he had toward the imprint, and toward fate itself, he wanted Emily to be happy.

For a moment, when Leah first disappeared he wanted to blame Emily, but the wolf wasn't having that shit, and really? What could he blame her for? She was there. She looked back at him.

It was all fucked up and twisted, but she was beautiful, scars and all. And there was no arguing the fact that she was his, so he was going to try. Try to make this work, to make her happy.

It was a Tuesday when he finally finished putting her new space together, and he was so excited he was practically vibrating. The wolf was happy to provide for its mate, and Sam kept thinking back to that tiny smile she'd given him when she told him what she was carving. He wanted to see her smile again, and he wanted it to be because of him.

She was in the kitchen chopping vegetables for dinner, when he went in to tell her about her surprise.

"Emily?"

She jumped, startled and almost sliced her palm open with the knife. "Oh, Sam, you scared me. Did you need something?"

He tried not to notice the fact that she'd placed her small hand over breasts in an effort to control her racing heartbeat. Fuck, he just wanted to—

"Sam?"

"Oh, right. Well I thought you might want to do some of your carving here, since you live here now and all…"

She nodded, looking at him as if she were wondering when the hell he'd lost his mind. "Yes. I do live here now."

Before he could speak, a howl went up from the woods outside their home. "Shit. I'm so sorry. Rain check?"

"Um. Sure."

He went to move past her, brushing a hand lightly down her arm on the way out the door.

"Sam," Emily called.

"Yeah?"

"Come home safe."

He was still smiling as he phased. And the smile only grew as he raced, with his pack, after a nomad that seemed determined to get through their perimeter. Sam was still smiling when they came home late and sweaty, without having caught the vampire who'd spent the entire night swinging from trees and taunting them. His Emily cared.

_A/N: "Qahla" means "sun" in Quileute. _

_I had planned on lengthening the chapters after the first, but for some reason this story had been sticking stubbornly to right around the 2,000 word mark...so we're going with it. _


	5. Chapter 5: Fairy Tales and Scars

**Disclaimer: **_All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._

**A/N:** _Thanks to my awesome beta and prereader, Maria Vilson and feebes 86. _

_I've been slowly getting a feel for when a good posting schedule for me would be, and I've decided to do my best to get you a new chapter on Fridays, so keep an eye out. Also, I've gotten a couple of PMs about the Quil/Bella story on my profile (if you haven't seen the summary check it out!), so I thought I'd let you all know that it's completely plotted and I'm in the middle of writing the fourth chapter. I'd like to finish writing this piece before I start posting it though. We'll see...now on to Emily and Sam.  
_

"Marked"

Chapter 5 "Fairy Tales and Scars"

_Emily's POV_

Once upon a time. That's how the stories always began.

Her mother used to curl up with her in the princess bed they'd picked out together to read to her every night. She favored tales of magic and mythical creatures, but the one thing she insisted on was a happy ending. If a story ended badly, she'd toss the book aside and tell her own. Weaving romance out of thin air and imagining happily ever afters that seemed magical to the little girl who sat at rapt attention.

"Emily," she'd say, work roughened hands painting pictures in the air. "We make our own happy endings."

Being dropped in the middle of one of those fairy tales was turning out to be a lot less happy than she might have imagined, but the day Jared imprinted on Kim, she came face to face with what her imprint was supposed to be.

The small pack of three had begun congregating around Sam's house at meal times; the frigid atmosphere ignored in deference to Emily's skill in the kitchen. She pretended to be okay with it, churning out enough food to feed a barracks full of soldiers three times a day.

In truth, she hated it. It might be different if she felt like a part of the pack. The idea of doing something to help these boys who protected the tribe appealed to her, but she was mostly ignored while they shoveled food down their throats before running back out the door. In a fit of temper, she'd coated their fish with an insane amount of red pepper one night, hoping for a reaction, _any _reaction. All she got were a few coughs and multiple requests for water refills to soothe the burn as they inhaled the meal. So she kept the peace, and cooked and cleaned, and wondered if what Sam needed in an imprint was a housekeeper.

The day Jared showed up towing a tall, plain girl behind him, she was working frantically to finish what seemed like a metric ton of spaghetti in time for dinner. Dancing from counter to stove to sink, she could feel sweat congealing beneath her breasts, and the heavy mass of her hair barely defying gravity in its haphazard bun. Her bandages felt soggy against her face and she easily became self-conscious with her hair pulled back, but it was hot, and she figured, the scars were covered. Jared's face stopped her in her tracks. He was looking at the girl as if she were...everything. It was the way, Emily realized, Sam had looked at Leah the night of the bonfire.

The way he had looked at her that night on the cliffs. Pushing away the spark of desire that memory raised, she attempted to focus back in on the room's new occupants.

"This is Kim," Jared announced, pride radiating from his whole body. "She's my imprint."

A moment of awkward silence reigned, but Emily's manners forced her to step forward, pasting a painful smile on her face. "Congratulations." She didn't choke, but the words felt like knives tearing up her throat. "It's so nice to meet you, Kim. I'm Emily."

"Hi."

The girl seemed shy, but her face held a glow. One that Emily knew had everything to do with Jared. As they shook hands, she felt a subtle squeeze and saw a flash of pity flow across the other woman's face. Emily couldn't be sure if it was just the scars hidden under her bandages, but she knew that if Jared hadn't shared the story of her imprint with Kim yet, he would. She wanted to be angry, ask her who she was to pity her, but looking at the difference in the two bonds, she pitied herself.

Still looking at his girl, Jared spoke to her, Paul, and Sam who had drifted in from the baseball game they'd been watching in the living room. "Would you believe that she's been sitting next to me in class for years, and I didn't realize? It was like, man, the second I met her eyes, I saw everything I'd been missing."

"Amazing," Kim breathed in agreement.

Sam's gaze moved toward her, but she pretended to ignore it. What was she supposed to say? I'm sorry that's not us? I'm sorry I'm not Leah? Biting her tongue, she turned back to the stove and mindlessly stirred the sauce, unfocused eyes counting tiles in the Spanish backsplash behind the stove.

He turned back to the happy couple and nodded. "Congratulations you two. Welcome to the pack, Kim. I'm Sam."

"The Alpha." The girl practically squeaked, shuffling her feet in their hot pink sneakers (what was she five?) and shifting closer into Jared. "It's, um, nice to meet you."

"How much have you told her?" He asked Jared. Sam's blank face was firmly in place, and Emily hoped that the awkwardness would die down for now.

"Just who you are, what we do, and what an imprint is."

Paul laughed, a vicious undertone to his voice, and started to speak. Emily knew it would be something that she didn't want to hear. He was an observant man and his blunt honesty had been driven into her like daggers many times in their brief acquaintance. Sam caught it though and a low growl ripped through the room, causing her spine to tighten and Kim to move completely behind her wolf in astonished fear.

"What _was _that?"

"Don't worry, babe," Jared said, shooting a death glare at his Alpha. "Paul was just about to be a dick and Sam was taking care of it. Speaking of Paul, that's him. He's glad to meet you. So, Emily, smells like spaghetti?" Kim raised an eyebrow at the quick subject change, and Emily found herself hoping it was a sign of an unseen backbone. This girl would need it, even if she had her wolf to fight in her corner.

She'd about had enough. Turning off the burner, she shot Jared a stilted nod and muttered, "It's on the stove." She found it hard not to stomp as she took off toward her small bedroom at the back of the house, but she managed it. All it took was a few internal reminders that she was nineteen years old, not exactly tantrum throwing age.

No one followed her, and as she fell back into comparing this new imprint to what she'd seen between Sam and her cousin the night it has happened to her, she realized that she hadn't expected them to.

The truth was that Emily didn't belong here, in this strange fairytale world. She didn't belong here, but she was trapped, and damned if she knew what she was going to do about it.

XXXXXXXXXX

It had been three long, tense weeks since she'd moved in with Sam. The atmosphere remained mostly silent, but today was different. Today her bandages had come off and the stitches had come out.

She hadn't looked yet. Emily had never been particularly vain; it wasn't often that she'd wear make-up or high heels. In fact, her one vanity had always been her hair. Her father told her when she was four to never cut it, and she remembered that her entire life, thinking that something so special to the man who was her whole world must be beautiful.

At the doctor's office, she gained an idea of how bad the damage appeared. The nurses were careful to focus only on the right side of her face, skirting the torn flesh as if it were contagious. In the waiting room, strangers whispered and averted their eyes. The ones who met her gaze, they radiated pity, so uncomfortable to be in her presence. Oh yes, she knew it would be bad.

When she got back from her appointment, the house sat still and quiet. Exhaling a sigh of relief that no one was home, she made her way to the bathroom and stiffly stripped off her clothes. It took her ten minutes to get her body to turn toward the full length mirror hung on the back of the bathroom door.

She wished it had taken longer.

The left side of her face held four jagged, angry scars. They ran from her hair line straight down to her jaw and continued down her collarbone and the entirety of her left arm. The worst damage had been done to her eye. Strange, she thought, that she could see almost as much as she could before. Everything was clear, except for the peripheral vision from that side.

_Monster. _She wasn't sure if she meant him or herself, maybe both. When the weight of his paw had hit her face, her cheekbone had shattered. At the hospital, she'd had reconstructive surgery, and they assured her, repeatedly, that a plastic surgeon could do something to reduce the scars. Later. _So ugly. _She didn't feel any better.

There, in the small bathroom of her supposed soul mate's house, Emily stared at what had been laid to ruin, and remembered what that girl from the grocery store had said about karma. This is what happens, she thought. _This is what you deserve._

XXXXXXXXXX

_Sam's POV_

He heard her. On the way in the door from a long patrol, Sam had been excited to finally show her the work he'd done in the old shed out back. He'd meticulously organized her tools in neat rows on some old peg boards he'd found and painted to look new. The tables were mismatched, but he'd sanded them baby bottom smooth and refinished them to a glossy shine. It was perfect. He knew Jared finding Kim had thrown her for a loop, showed her everything their relationship wasn't. He'd forgotten where she had gone today. She wasn't sobbing; it was more small sniffles and the scent of her tears lingering in the air. His body had him halfway to the bathroom before he realized he was even moving, and he kept going once he did. Her pain wrapped around him, burying him in a maelstrom of emotion he knew didn't belong to him.

When he pushed open the door, he wished he hadn't.

There in brilliant color stood the greatest mistake he'd ever made. Painted across his imprint's supple body was the truth of his tribe's greatest legends. The breath flew from his body as if he'd taken a hit to the gut. She couldn't see him, he realized. He stood, quietly, outside of her new field of vision.

He had weakened his mate, his wolf whined.

Yes. Yes, he had.

An overwhelming wave of sorrow and regret flowed through his body. She would be unable to protect herself now; she had a blind spot that could be taken advantage of so easily. But even like this, tears streaming down her cheeks, she was beautiful. Her shoulders were pulled back, her back straight and he knew that when she left this bathroom, she would act as if nothing had changed. Sam couldn't let that happen. She had to let it out.

Clearing his throat, he stepped into the small enclosure and reached for her.

"Emily?"

A strangled sound of denial flew from her mouth as she turned, scrambling to pull her shirt back on. He couldn't have that. His arms came around her like a vice, pulling her into the heat of his muscled chest.

He took the hits from her small fists, barely felt them raining down on his arms. "Just let it out, baby. Please. Let go."

The keening that rose from her tore him apart all over again. A mantra of self-hatred slithering through his mind the entire time he stood there. _You did this. Your everything is ruined before you even began. Your fault._

He did his best to ignore the voice, simply acknowledging a truth before moving on. There were more important things now. The shuddering sobs that rose from Emily were echoed in his mind, and though he would never admit it, as he fell to his knees cradling her small body, silent tears slipped down the hard planes of Sam Uley's cheeks.


	6. Chapter 6: Temporary

**Disclaimer: **_All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._

**A/N:** _Thanks to my awesome beta and prereader, Maria Vilson and feebes 86. All mistakes are mine and mine alone. _

"Marked"

Chapter 6: Temporary

_Sam's POV_

The next council meeting, Sam felt like he was being called onto the carpet. He stood across from a solemn row of his father's contemporaries and wondered, not for the first time, what the hell he was doing here.

"Alpha" Billy intoned.

He gave a slight nod. "Chief."

"You have news to share with us?"

"My brother, Jared Cameron, has imprinted on Kim Branson."

A quiet murmuring ran through the group of eight. Billy cleared his throat to silence them. "A blessing indeed. When do they wish to hold the ceremony?"

He choked on the inside but managed to keep his face impassive. _You're the Alpha. Don't fuck it up. "_They've requested that we hold off on an official ceremony in light of the circumstances relating to my own imprint. There will be a bonfire in honor of both new additions to our pack this Saturday; we would ask that our elders attend to share our histories."

Sam couldn't have been more grateful for Jared's decision. No matter how shitty the circumstances were, his brothers had his back. They were a pack.

"Do you not believe it is a dishonor to the gifts the gods have bestowed upon you to delay the bonding ceremony?" the dick on the end asked.

Sam had never liked him. "No."

The left side of Billy's mouth twitched as he fought a grin. "Very well, Alpha. It will be as you have stated. What news on the nomad that's been plaguing our lands?"

Jesus, everyone sounded so stiff and formal that Sam felt like he could scream. Shifting in the hard, metal, folding chair that felt like it would crumple beneath his gargantuan frame, he tried to give a shit. The majority of his thoughts were, as they always were these days, focused on Emily, and the larger part of the Council were asshats. "We have not caught any traces of it for a few days now. We're hopeful it has moved on to less dangerous hunting grounds."

"And if it hasn't?" There lay an anger behind Harry Clearwater's eyes that Sam felt was justified. He reminded himself that now was not the time to apologize, and that it wasn't Harry that deserved the apology. _Leah_.

His first instinct was to avoid Harry's gaze, but the wolf wouldn't let him. _We are Alpha. _Sam met the Elder's eyes and held steady eye contact as he replied, "Then we'll kill it."

The conversation moved to less tense but still anxiety ridden topics. There had been a watch placed on many off boys with the right heritage around the Rez. Thankfully, no one had witnessed signs of a new phase approaching.

As the meeting adjourned following a prayer for their protectors, Billy gestured toward Sam. "Stay for a minute, will you?"

"Sure."

The others filed out, shedding invisible mantles of ceremony as if they were heavy weights. And, he supposed, they were. His was. But he couldn't take it off, couldn't shed the layers. The wolf always paced, restless and waiting, beneath the surface of his skin.

Billy cleared his throat, again, and Sam fought the need to ask if he'd like a cough drop. He focused in on his chief knowing what was coming.

"I've been watching Jacob. He seems no closer to the shift than before. I wonder if we should maybe push him to phase?"

"May I ask why? He's so young; wouldn't it be better to give him as much time as possible to enjoy his youth? It'll disappear in a flash the moment his wolf wakes up." He wished that had been a choice for him, wished he could go back and run before any of this had begun.

"Our tribe needs him, Sam," Billy said. "We need a strong Alpha and Chief of the Black bloodline to protect us from the ever present threat of the Cold Ones."

_And what the fuck am I?_ Oh, his wolf was pissed at the slight. This _human_ man brought his strength into question. Sam slapped the wolf down hard when it started seriously considering "culling" Billy.

As if he finally realized what he'd been saying, Billy scrambled to placate the lightly vibrating wolf. "You've done an excellent job of course. I couldn't have asked for a better temporary Alpha, but you well know that it has always been Ephraim's line that was meant to lead the pack." A brief shadow of remorse crossed the man's face; Sam knew, though, that he meant every word he'd said.

_Temporary. Never enough. _

The wolf was too close now, so near the surface he felt as if his skin would split at any moment.

Eying the other man, Billy quickly finished their meeting. He could see, though he'd never fully understand, the need to run in those feral eyes. "I ask that the three of you keep an eye out for him and alert me to any signs of the change. With the nomad hanging around, there is a chance that his phase will be instigated. I'll see you next week, son."

Sam stood up so fast his chair tumbled down to the floor in an earsplitting metallic clang. He strode out of the room quickly, his long legs eating up the floor in a desperate bid for escape. _I'm not your son. _He wanted to say it, throw it in his face. _I'm not your son, but the gods laid this burden at my feet, and the day the responsibility of our people's lives landed at my feet, I became a man. _

He raced home through the woods on human feet, the wolf pushing him toward the one thing that could calm him, his Emily. He found her in the kitchen, surrounded by the scent of fresh blueberries and covered in flour. Muffins. She baked a ridiculous amount of muffins once a week, and he couldn't figure out what her minor obsession was about, but at the moment the smells and sights made him feel like he was coming home in a way he never had before.

It took a good ten minutes for her to notice him leaning in the doorway. He entertained herself by picturing the red hoodie she wore as a cape and imagining what his big, bad, wolf could do for her, if she'd let him that is. She started when she saw him, attempting to wipe sweat and flour off her face with a forearm, all while pulling her hair forward to cover the scars lining her face.

She didn't say anything for a moment, just studied the tension radiating from his body. Reaching a hand into a wicker basket on the table between them, she picked up a treat and held it out in offering. "Muffin?"

Sam felt his stress drain away in a bark of laughter. "Please," he murmured. Shoring up his nerves, he dove out on a limb for the first time in what felt like so long. "Do you have a minute? I have something I'd like to show you."

"Of course."

He lead her out the back door to one of the small sheds that littered his property. "Close your eyes," he whispered, coming up behind her.

She let out a stuttering breath and let her eyelids fall closed.

Placing his hands on her shoulders _oh god, he was touching her, _he guided her forward, stepping softly into the room behind her. "You can open them."

"Oh," she breathed, eyes wide as saucers she took in the room he'd so painstakingly designed for her. "Oh, Sam."

Panic raced through him at the tears clogging her voice. "Do you not like it? Because we can change anything. Or tear it down and build you something else. I just thought—the carving seemed like such an important part of you, and I know that you're not happy here, with me. But maybe if you have your own space to do your work, you'll start to feel a little more like this is your home too." His words tumbled over themselves in one long breath.

A tear tracked it's way down her cheek as she turned to look at him, eyes drifting over the meticulously organized peg boards and hand-crafted displays for her pieces. "It's perfect. I—thank you." Straining upward she placed a light kiss on his cheek.

The wolf vibrated from sheer happiness. He could see, for the very first time, a light coming from his imprint's eyes. Her art was an intrinsic part of who she was, he realized. He had given her something precious, and he could only hope that he could recreate this experience often in the future. There was nothing more beautiful than her, happy in her element. Sam decided he would spend the rest of his life putting that smile on her face, whether he deserved her or not, Emily Young was his.

They spent the evening curled up on opposite ends of the couch, watching movies. Her foot would occasionally brush across the outside of his thigh, and he felt himself shifting closer to her every time it happened. He wanted her. Wanted to breathe her in, to bury his face in that sweet spot where shoulder met neck and taste her skin. The sexual tension had created an atmosphere so taut he felt as if he'd snap at any moment, throw her against the nearest surface and reclaim her.

His thoughts were interrupted by a howl from the forest. Jumping off the couch he raced for the door, almost forgetting to turn and say goodbye.

"Come back safe," she whispered.

"I will."

The pack hunted that night. Sam in the lead, they raced through the dark woods, more determined than ever to destroy the abomination that dared trespass on their lands. Paul, pissed at the interruption of his latest conquest, snarled and pushed himself faster, attempting to ignore the constant thoughts of Emily and Kim that filtered through the pack mind.

An image of Kim with her lips wrapped around Jared's dick almost made him trip over his paws. _Fuck man. I didn't think the mousy little thing had it in her. _The memory of her choking and almost vomiting when she took him too far followed. Paul howled. _There's the little virgin I thought she was. Poor baby. Was the mood ruined?_

Sam was forced to step in when Jared lunged at his pack brother. _Enough. We have a job to do and I need you two idiots to focus. Paul you go—_

His orders were interrupted when a solid weight smashed into his side, sending him careening into a nearby tree. All he saw was a flash of matted red hair before he was hit; the ribs along the right side of his body cracked at the impact. His brothers rushed forward to help, but they were to slow to prevent further injury.

Sam's mind became a haze of red; anger, blood, and the scent of leech wrapped around him, the edges of his vision going black from the pain of deep gashes and breaking bones. He saw, from the corner of his eye as he lay still on the forest floor, Paul as he tore the thing's head from its shoulders, but reality was quickly overwritten by visions of Emily. _Could she feel him, _he wondered? It always came back to this. _Don't hurt Emily._

**A/N: Thanks so much to those of you who've reviewed/followed/favorited the story and to those of you who've PM'd me. The encouragement has been absolutely wonderful. For those of you who don't have an account or have your PMs turned off, I apologize, but I am not able to respond to your reviews or answer your questions. **

**Now, a question for my readers: We're coming up on the portion of the story where I have two options. I can continue to follow canon, and leave Leah with a vague, mostly unhappy ending, which would leave some definite issues present in our happy couple's relationship…or I can alter things and give all three of the characters the closure they need to move forward. **

**Let me know what you think, please See you next Friday!**


	7. Chapter 7: I Think I Love You

**Disclaimer: **_All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._

**A/N:** _Thanks to my awesome beta and prereader, Maria Vilson and feebes 86. All mistakes are mine and mine alone. _

"Marked"

Chapter 7: I Think I Love You

_Emily's POV_

They brought him to her cradled carefully in their thick, muscled arms; she could see how gentle they were being with his injured frame, almost reverent in their handling of their alpha. Inhaling a deep, steadying breath and swallowing the threatening panic, she stepped forward and reached out a barely shaking hand to touch his leg.

"What happened?"

"Leech caught him. We were too slow," Jared said, his tone bordering on curt as he attempted to shoulder past her to take him to his room.

"No. Put him in mine; the bed's bigger."

They paused, but it was Paul who decided. "She's right. Her scent will help keep him calm anyway. Emily go call Sue while we clean him up."

She found herself headed toward the door at his command without realizing it. No. No, she wouldn't scurry along the sidelines while they tended the wounded man who was meant to be hers. They were all a bunch of irritating Alpha males and one of these days she knew she was going to snap on whichever idiot was attempting to treat her like pack bitch. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself that now was not the time. She had found herself wishing so often to be _useful_ for once and here was her chance.

"No, I'll clean him." Raising her eyes to meet two skeptical gazes, she slipped agilely around them into the bathroom and began filling a basin with warm water and gathering towels. "Go on then."

The two oversized men moved cautiously from the room, ready to race back in and assist (take over) at the slightest sign of need. She ignored it, ignored them, and zeroed in on the large, broken body laid out on her pale, green sheets.

"Oh, Sam."

The smell of blood hung heavy in the air, she tried not to breathe in the scent of raw hamburger and copper. When Sue arrived, she stayed by his side, cleaning each wound so the other woman could clearly assess the damage. Sam was restless, but stayed mostly unconscious, and Emily was truly grateful once Sue informed her that pain medications were useless with the wolves fast metabolisms. Until Sue was forced to re-break his leg. It had healed at the wrong angle and the painful movement proved too much for her wolf; each sound of pain that echoed through the room seemed to travel straight through their bond and stab her in the heart. When he had calmed, they worked in a tense silence; the situation plus the previous tension leaving them with nothing to say. Emily watched, one hand on Sam's naked shoulder as Sue packed up her bag to leave.

"Thank you."

Sue nodded and moved toward the door, saying over her shoulder, "He'll be alright in a day or two. Their healing is truly a miraculous thing." And then she was gone and the silence reigned.

It took hours, but felt like an eternity, before the others left for good. The sounds of his hoarse screams would forever echo in her mind, and her side of the bond felt raw and torn from the weight of her wolf's pain.

Two broken ribs, one compound fracture of the leg, and what seemed like rivers of blood she'd washed away in hundreds of steady passes with a damp washcloth. He slept now, his body fighting desperately to piece itself back together.

Burning. He was so much hotter than before. Her fingertips felt scorched as they passed over his skin, but she was cold. So fucking cold from the fear and uncertainty that she wanted to climb inside him. She wanted to burrow into his warmth and hide from the world, just the two of them.

And there it was. No matter how hard she tried to fight, he was tying her up in impossible knots. She was losing herself and the guilt was giving way in the face of this connection. She wanted to know the man who gave her a building just to see her smile.

_Don't leave me_, she thought. Brushing her lips across the naked skin if his shoulder, she breathed the next words into his body, needing him to know even if he couldn't hear her right now. "I think I love you."

"Emily," he breathed, sleep still holding him under.

"I'm here."

XXXXXXXXXX

_Sam's POV_

He woke to pain and silence, but it didn't matter, because his left arm was wrapped tight around the woman who had so recently become his world. The entire length of her body just barely brushed against his, as if even in her sleep she was afraid to hurt him. _God he could feel her. _Her cooler temperature leeching the heat from his body, those sweet breasts brushing against his arm. He'd let every bone in his body be shattered if it only meant he could wake up like this again.

When the elders had told him of imprinting, they hadn't mentioned that more than just physical proximity would be required to satisfy the bond. At first, just having her close had been enough; her scent mixing with his in their home settled him in a way he'd never been before. Eventually, though, every stretch of bare skin, every pass of her tongue across plump lips, and every sway of her slim hips had the wolf clawing its way to the surface.

He knew that he was supposed to be whatever she needed, so it only made the situation worse when he'd catch her glancing at his shirtless torso before smelling her arousal on the air. Oh she wanted him. But he had no idea what the fuck he was supposed to do about it.

For now though, he'd take her skin against his, her breath in puffs against his chest. He shifted, wanting to get just a little bit closer, and she jerked, waking in a frantic rush.

"Sam," she cried.

He could hear the fear in her voice; it pleased him that she worried for him, but he couldn't let her be scared. "I'm here." The words echoed as if he'd heard them before, but the sense of deja vu washed away in the wake of her relieved smile.

"I was so worried."

She moved to get up, but he stopped her with a gentle grip on her arm. "Please, stay. For awhile."

Emily paused before leaning back into his heat. "Is it dead?"

"I don't know. I blacked out before I could see if the boys got it."

"Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"I—I'm glad you're okay."

They lay in silence for over an hour, relishing in the lack of strain placed on their bond for the very first time since the beginning, before Emily asked, "Are you hungry?"

Not wanting to let her go but knowing he shouldn't push his luck, he brushed a feather light kiss against the crown of her head. "I could eat."

"Are muffins okay?"

"You like to bake muffins, huh?" Seriously, what the fuck was up with the muffins. A few days ago, Paul had threatened to shove one right up her ass if she tried to force one on him again.

She shifted, nervousness coming off her in waves. "Oh, um, it's something my Dad and I do—used to do—on Sunday mornings. When my Mom died, it was just the two of us, and he was so busy, not to mention he wasn't the best cook in the world, so every Sunday he'd take the time to try out a new muffin recipe with me and we'd have something homemade in the house all week."

The wistful note in her voice made his chest ache; rubbing at it with one hand, he asked, "Why muffins?"

Emily smiled, "Because there are hundreds of different types and they're so easy, most don't need more than one bowl, so we never had to spend too much of the little time we had cleaning up our mess."

Sam hummed his understanding and gave her a light squeeze. "You miss him."

"I do."

She seemed ashamed of that and he couldn't have that, so he opened his mouth and shared something that he never had before. "I don't miss my father."

"Is he dead?"

"No. Just gone. He took off when I was twelve, left my mother here to raise me by herself. She died four years later. An overdose on prescription painkillers. She was an addict."

"But you loved her."

"Yeah, yeah I did. We had our little rituals too, after he left. Saturday morning cartoons and Fruit Loops, and one night a week she'd make sure we sat down and ate together at the dining room table. She was the only person to ever try to take care of me, even if she wasn't very good at it."

Emily's small hand brushed across the planes of his chest in a comforting gesture. "It sounds like I would have liked her."

"She would have admired you. Strength was the best quality she could imagine in a woman for me. That's why she was always pushing me together with—"

Her entire body tensed and he cursed his inability to take his words back. "Leah. She wanted you to be with Leah."

Sighing, he rolled painfully onto his side and forced her chin up so she could meet his gaze. "She didn't know you. She didn't know about the wolf. And she sure as shit didn't know about imprinting. If she had lived, my mother would have thought you were perfect for me."

She snorted and tried, futilely, to escape his hold.

"Do you know why I think the gods chose you for me?"

Her attempts at escape paused, and she finally focused in on his eyes. "Why?" she whispered tentatively.

The thought of saying anything negative about Leah and his relationship with her still tore him up inside, but he could see something so fragile lurking in Emily's eyes. _Don't fuck it up. _"When I first phased, the anger was like nothing I'd ever experienced before. It was like I'd been possessed by something I didn't understand, and every time I was with Leah, we argued. Like oil and water, she couldn't understand the rage that consumed me, and instead of offering me a safe harbor to calm me, she met me head on."

Emily reached up a hand to brush across her scars.

"Yes. I could have killed her. So easily."

"I don't understand how that makes me better for you. Obviously, I have a similar effect."

He rushed to reassure her, she was still so scared of his wolf. "No, no, it's not like that with you. I swear. It was just the newness of the imprint ahnd the fact that you were rejecting me. We're here now, and it's awkward, and it feels wrong sometimes, I know, but we'll figure this out Em. I promise. You're perfect for me because, while you come across as silent and even timid sometimes, you have this core of steel inside you that I've never seen before. You're so strong, baby, and that's what I need more than anything. Someone who can hold themselves together while I'm out fighting our enemies, help me make decisions that effect our entire tribe, and hold _me_ together when I come home. 'Cause sometimes I can't do it on my own, Em."

A slightly stunned look crossed over her face before she whispered, "I can do that."

"I know. You already are." They needed to change the topic; the seriousness of their conversation was scaring them both, just a little, and he didn't want to mess anything up. This was the first time they'd really spoken about the things that were keeping them apart. "How about those muffins."

She laughed and rolled off the bed. "I'll go get you some."

"I'll be here."

They spent the rest of the day in the bedroom together, talking of anything and everything long after the sun went down and shadows began to dance across the soft, blue walls. And that night, before he could ask her to stay, she crawled up beside him and leaned into his heat.


	8. Chapter 8: I Want You

**A/N:** Thanks to my awesome beta and prereader, Maria Vilson and feebes 86. All mistakes are mine and mine alone.

*begins self-pimping* I have two new one shots posted this week. The first "Come Away With Me" is a Quil/Embry piece that one Judges Choice 1st Place in the Slash Backslash 4.0 contest. The second is a steamy Paul/Bella piece called "Desecrate Me" entered into the Public Lovin' Contest. Feel free to take a look! *ends shameless pimping*

**Disclaimer: **_All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._

"Marked"

Chapter 8 "I Want You"

_Sam's POV_

It was an inconsequential noise that woke him a few evenings later. He'd spent those nights resting so comfortably in her arms, that Sam felt incapable of fully relaxing without her there beside him. When she shifted, he heard it, even from the other side of the house; and, that night, when she let out a soft moan, he found himself out of bed and moving toward her without ever making the decision to rise. What he found almost brought him to his knees.

He had been so careful over the past weeks to never make her uncomfortable; no matter the toll his constantly aching erection placed on his body, he refused to let her see how much he needed her. Until now.

She lay, sprawled on top of the quilt, her breasts spilling out of a thin tank top into her hand, while the other worked at her clit. Small whimpers and soft sighs worked their way out of her parted lips, her face was flushed pink, and _fuck_ she knew just what she wanted, twisting and tugging at her nipples as she grew closer.

He wanted to dive in between her parted thighs, to attach his mouth to her heat and swallow her, but he knew he couldn't. The moment would shatter, and the goddamn bond that had overtaken their lives was telling him quite clearly that his mate had this shit under control. Sam reached down to adjust himself, and that's when she looked up and met his smoldering gaze.

Her breath hitched and he was ready to turn and run, embarrassment heating his russet skin, when he realized _she wasn't kicking him out._ Gaze locked with his, she spread her legs a little wider and moved her fingers deeper into her core.

Opening his mouth to speak, he quickly swallowed the words he knew would break if he let them free. He wanted to ask her what she was doing. Was she trying to torture him? But the look on her face, let him see quite clearly that while she needed something, she was doing this for him. He guessed he hadn't been so good at hiding the strain from the lack of contact between the them.

Focused now on her breasts, remembering how those hard points tasted, he slipped a hand into his shorts and wrapped his dick in a vice-like grip. He pictured his lips on her; he wanted to bite and suck those sweet, little nipples. Make her moan from the heat of his mouth. A husky groan fell from his lips, and her breathing picked up its pace as she worked faster, spurred on by his pleasure.

The smell of her surrounded him and he fought to hold off, rough palm sliding back and forth across his slicked up length. Two fingers inside herself now, she rubbed her fingers frantically against her clit, nailing him with her eyes. _Fuck yeah, baby_. He imagined it was her mouth wrapped around his cock. Sweet heat and the graze of her teeth.

She ended it with a single word, breathing his name as she came, her feet planted on the bed as she rode out the waves pressing against her own hand. He slipped out of the room before she could realize he was gone; the bond satisfied for the first time since he'd claimed her. The man, though, felt strangely empty.

XXXXXXXXXX

_Emily's POV_

All she could think about for the rest of the day was the way he'd looked as he came. She wanted to be the one to grip him, to touch his heated body. But she wasn't that brave; she still couldn't wrap her mind around what she'd done. It's not like she was a virgin before Sam, but she had never shared something so _private_ with another person. When he left, an empty feeling settled into her gut—it wasn't enough.

Later that day, Kim showed up while she was working on a few roasts for dinner. They had all taken to waltzing right through her front door without knocking, and she was attempting to be okay with the new lack of privacy.

Just as the door swung open, Emily's grip on the glass cutting board she was carrying across the kitchen floor slipped and shattered against the tiled floor. "Sonavabitch," she yelled. Her frustration was boiling over.

"Hey." The girl smiled brightly, tucking a hunk of black hair behind her ear. "I'd thought I'd see if you needed some help. I know these guys eat like, well like wolves." Glancing at the sea of shards on the floor and the anger marring Emily's face, she grew hesitant. "Um, is everything okay?"

A genuine smile crossed Emily's face. This was the first time in who knows how long that someone had offered her a helping hand. Yes, she was tired of the constant cooking, but she knew that she could do it, for him, if only anyone would step up to the plate and _help. _Maybe, just maybe, she had misjudged the shy girl.

"Sure."

They worked in silence to clean up the mess for awhile before Emily couldn't take it anymore. She tossed down her knife and pulled open the cabinet above the fridge. Yanking out a stack of ceramic plates, she spared a glance for Kim before handing her half and throwing one as hard as she could at the ground.

"Um, Emily?"

"That felt really good. You should try it."

"Okay." Kim's voice was hesitant, the words drawn out in her confusion, but she did what she was told.

Thirty minutes later, they sat side by side on the counter tops, the roasts forgotten in their trays, and the floor covered in pieces of multicolored plates.

"I've never done this before," Kim whispered.

"I needed that."

"I think, maybe, so did I."

Sighing, Emily thought about taking the glass away, but figured to hell with it. Who else could she do this with? She so desperately needed to talk to someone who knew what was going on.

"Does the imprinting get better?" Kim asked.

"I don't know. Mine's a big clusterfuck, but you and Jared...you seem happy."

"We are. I am. It's just...I've wanted him, for years, to just _look at me_ and all of a sudden he has, and it's all because of this mystical, magical force." She tossed another plate and gave a hum of satisfaction, before looking Emily in the eyes, fear wrinkling her brow. "What if that's all it is? Is he forced to love me? Because I don't think I want that..."

"I don't know. I'm pretty sure Sam's still in love with Leah. My cousin. You know the story right?"

"Yeah. Jared told me."

"Of course. Ugh, it's so messed up. And I know he wouldn't have looked at me twice if it weren't for this mystical, tribal bullshit. He loved her. You could see it in everything he did. Then, in a moment, he meets my eyes and it's over." Emily clutched the last plate with white knuckled hands and gazed blankly at the oatmeal colored wall across from her. "That's probably enough for you. Start slow."

Kim giggled and pushed her hair back out of her face. "Well at least the sex is amazing."

"We're not having sex. Not after the first time."

"I—oh, huh."

"Yeah, it sucks. But I have no idea how to get to that point; sometimes I'm not even sure I want to. We're more like really horny roommates." She snorted. "Really freakin' horny. I think he still feels like he's cheating on her. I understand where he's coming from, because I can't stop thinking that he's hers."

Kim's small hand grazed Emily's arm in a silent gesture of support. "But he's yours now."

"Yeah."

"You just have to figure out what to do with him."

The boys returned from patrol two hours later to find their imprints laughing hysterically in the middle of a disaster zone.

"Everything okay, here?" Sam asked, confusion written across his brow.

"We're fine, Sam. Everything is just fine."

Jared cleared his throat. "Are you ready to go, Kim?"

She waved a hand distractedly at him and turned back to her new friend. "No, you go ahead; I think I'll stay here for the night."

The two bewildered wolves slunk away as the girls continued their now whispered conversation. In the wake of disaster, a friendship was born between the only two women who could possibly understand the other. Being a shape-shifting tribal protector was hard, being an imprint was harder.


	9. Chapter 9: Haunted by the Past

**Disclaimer: **_All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._

_**A/N: **__Thanks to my amazing beta, Maria Vilson (I'm pretty sure she's some kinda awesome cross between a ninja and a cheerleader) and my awesome prereader, feebes86. This story wouldn't be what it is without them. _

"Marked"

Chapter 9: Haunted by the Past

_Sam's POV_

The next evening, at the long awaited bonfire, Sam found himself giving both Emily and Kim a wide berth. Their sudden tight-knit friendship made him more than a little uneasy; he'd never been one of those guys who was comfortable approaching a pack of girls. For some reason girls in groups tended to break into man-eater mode a lot quicker than a girl alone.

Of course, now he felt like a dirty old man for imagining separating her from her herd (if two could be considered a herd), so he turned his focus away from his imprint and moved over to stand with Jared next to the fire.

"Hey, man," Jared said, eying his own girl warily. "What the fuck's up with that?"

"Women."

"Right? I haven't been able to get close to Kim since last night. What did your imprint do?"

Sam let out a rumbling growl at the underlying threat in the other wolf's words. "Watch it."

"I just don't get it. I drop her off at your house and everything's all hearts and flowers and a few hours later she's bosom buddies with your girl and locked inside an imaginary bubble."

"Look, your issues with Kim are exactly that. Your issues. Don't drag Emily into it just because she made a friend. Don't you think she deserves a friendly female face?"

Jared thought about it for a second before nodding, albeit reluctantly. "Yeah, you're right, I guess. I just don't understand girls."

"It's a good thing I'm here then, you sorry sacks." Paul dropped a heavy arm over both of their shoulders and followed their gazes to the girls who were huddled together across the fire. "Tell Uncle Paul what the problem is. Need to know how to get your ladies to accept another woman in your bed? Wondering why she's so against taking it up her sweet, little ass? Or maybe you need some advice on how to hit that ever elusive g-spot? I can draw you a map, my friends."

Sam shrugged off the heavy limb and brought his hand to the back of Paul's head with a resounding thwack. "Shut the fuck up."

"Idiot." Jared grumbled.

"What? These are the important things. And if they're not important to you then we need to have a whole other conversation."

"Go find an empty hole to stick it in, Paul," Sam growled before squaring his shoulders and stalking toward his imprint.

She looked up warily when his shadow fell over her, blocking the blue light of the fire. "Sam?"

"Will you walk with me?"

"Sure." She gave Kim a smile and took the hand he offered, not protesting when he didn't let go after she rose.

They walked, her small cool hand tucked into his large one, away from the light and the noise. A comfortable silence rested between them, as they moved into the cover of darkness.

"So you and Kim seem to be getting along well?"

"Yeah," Emily agreed. "It's nice to have someone to talk to who I can actually talk about everything with, you know?"

He nodded and squeezed her hand. "I understand. In the beginning, it was just me. I had the Elders there, telling me the legends. Explaining how things were supposed to be. But it wasn't until Jared phased that I finally had someone who really understood what was going on."

"That's exactly it. I just...this is it for us, or at least it's supposed to be, and I want it to work, Sam, I do. But I don't think the imprint's enough."

His whole body tensed and he stopped walking, pulling her around to face him. Was she leaving him? Giving up? "What do you mean?"

Staring at his chest, she ran her tongue over her bottom lip, an inadvertent gesture of nervousness. "We're tied together, yes. And the bond gives us the tools we need to build a solid relationship, but it's up to us to make it work."

"You mean you want to date?"

"No. Well, yes. Kind of?" A small noise of frustration slipped from her mouth. "I think we need to take the time to really get to know each other. There's so much opposition, well-deserved opposition, to our relationship from the outside world, that making this work will be impossible if we don't have a strong foundation between the two of us." She took a deep breath and met his worried gaze. "What I do know, I like. I just think I need to know more. What's your favorite color? Food? Do you squeeze the toothpaste from the top or from the bottom? It's the little things that lead to the big."

"My favorite color is blue and I like everything you cook, but especially your homemade bread with butter and honey. I squeeze from the bottom. What's more important is that your favorite color is yellow because it reminds you of sunshine and you'd take us all down for a piece of your Aunt's apple pie. I'm sorry, by the way, that she's not making it for you anymore. You squeeze from the bottom, which is why I do and I only remember to put the cap back on because I know you want me to."

He knelt at her feet so he fell just a bit shorter than her. "I know that the way this, the way we, began is not ideal, but you _are _it for me, Em. I'm trying. All you have to do is tell me what you need."

Her hand came up to graze his cheek. "Oh, Sam."

It was as if time stopped. Like in romantic movies when the whole world disappears. Their lips were a breath away from each other now, so close that he could lick the shine from hers if he opened his mouth.

Just as her eyes fell closed in surrender, a slurred voice drifted down from the path back up the beach.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my almost husband and the dirty, little home wrecker herself."

Sam stood, his body blocking Emily's, shaking hands clenched into fists. "Leah—"

"Fancy meeting you here. It's such a small world. Isn't it?"

"You're drunk."

She laughed, a high-pitched, borderline hysterical sound. "Thank you, Captain Obvious. I have every right to be, don't I? I just heard through the grapevine, that's such a good song isn't it, that my man-stealing cousin here didn't go back home. Oh, no. You couldn't slink back home like the devious little slut you are, could you Emily? Instead she moved in to what was supposed to be _my _house and is living what was supposed to be _my _life. Anything else you want to take from me? Huh? You want my parents and my brother too?"

A pained cry tore itself from Emily's throat and she tried to step around Sam. He pulled her tight into his back, standing his ground between the only two women he'd ever loved.

"I'm sorry, Leah," Emily whispered, her voice echoing eerily across the rocky shore. "I'm so damned sorry."

"That's just great. You now what? Fuck you, Emily. Sorry doesn't make this better. There's nothing you can do that would make any of this even remotely okay."

"I know."

"Le-Le—"

"No. No, Sam, you don't get me to call me that anymore."

"Alright."

His heart was shredded, torn into pieces by the tears running silently down Leah's cheeks and those soaking into his skin from Emily, pressed almost desperately into his back now.

"Will you let me take you home?"

For a second, he thought she'd say yes, but then a hard mask fell down over her face and she flipped him off before turning back the way she came.

"You can't do anything for me anymore, Sam. I don't want you too."

They remained, frozen, for what seemed like an eternity. It was Emily who finally found the courage to speak. "We have to tell her. This whole situation is impossible, but we have to tell her, Sam. It doesn't explain or excuse all of it, she has every right to hate us, but we can't let her keep thinking that two of the people who loved her most in the world fucked each other just for kicks."

He brushed the tears from her cheeks with the rough pads of his thumbs, before thinking _fuck it_, and pulling her into his chest with a palm wrapped around the back of her neck. "I know. I'll talk to the Elders."

"And if they say no?"

"Shit. I don't know. She needs to be told, but I'm so bound up by rules and secrecy that I don't know what to do here."

"But I thought you were Alpha. Shouldn't the decision be yours?"

Her hair was so soft, he found himself threading his fingers through it, watching it fall across her shoulders as he reached the ends. "It should. But I'm not the rightful Alpha. That's Jacob Black. I'm just a placeholder."

At the bitterness in his tone, she wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed. "We'll figure it out."

"Yeah," he agreed, breathing her in. He wasn't sure he'd ever be worthy of this woman's quiet strength, but he decided, right then and there, that he'd spend the rest of his life trying.

XXXXXXXXXX

The next morning found him in Billy's living room, surrounded by the council. Why, even in a room without special seating for the Elders, they ended up facing him as if he were on trial, he couldn't fathom.

"What can we do for you, Sam?" Billy asked.

With a glance at Harry, he focused in on his Chief and spoke. "We need to tell Leah."

"You would disregard our traditions to soothe the heart of your ex-girlfriend?" Old Quil asked incredulously.

Sam's growl was overshadowed by the one that erupted from Leah's father's very human throat. "Watch it, old man. That's my daughter you're talking about."

"Your daughter she may be," Old Quil said, tapping his cane on the floor by his feet, "but she is not a wolf, nor is she an imprint. Our legends make it clear, there is no place for such sacred knowledge to be shared outside of the pack and the council."

There were nods of agreement around the room. Sam wanted to howl in frustration; these stodgy old men sat on their thrones and decided the fate of them all as if they had some sort of crystal ball that magically gave them the right answer.

"It's not just her broken heart I'm worried about," he argued. "Yes, I hate it that she's hurting, but she's also destroying my standing with this tribe. I already had half of them believing I'm operating some sort of gang, now they believe that the Alpha of our protectors is a two-timing asshole. Is this what you would have our people believe about me?"

There was a flash of sympathy in Billy's eyes, but it was Old Quil, the crotchety old bastard, who spoke up again. "Your reputation is not necessary in the battle against the Cold Ones, Sam Uley. And Leah will heal in time."

"And my imprint? I'm supposed to be okay with the fact that she is completely ostracized thanks to this _gift_ the gods bestowed upon us?" He fixed his glare upon Harry and felt a vindictive pleasure when he winced at his next words. "Even by her own family?"

Billy, ever the peacemaker, brought his hand down in the air, a gesture to cut the conversation off. "Enough. We are sorry for the grief this has caused all three of you, Sam, but the tradition makes the answer clear. Leah Clearwater is not to be let in on the fact that our legends bear truth. Please offer your imprint our sincerest apologies for her treatment in this difficult time. The gods have clearly spoken."

_Bullshit, old man,_ Sam thought bitterly. _If by gods, you mean yourself and your ignorant cronies. _

He stood and strode out of the Black's small living room with nothing but a curt nod. Their whispers about his temper and rudeness only succeeded in pushing him faster toward home.

He needed Emily. He didn't even slow to wonder at the fact that she'd become what he ran too instead of what he ran away from. All he knew was that she could make it better.

And, with shared silence and an offering of bread fresh from the oven, she did.


	10. Chapter 10: When Words Matter

**Disclaimer: **_All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._

_**A/N: **__Thanks to my amazing beta, Maria Vilson, and my awesome prereader, feebes86. This story wouldn't be what it is without them. _

_Sorry for the long wait on this one, my lovelies. RL kicked me in the teeth and then a rousing bout of food poisoning KO'd me in the last round. I may never be able to face a bowl of chicken and dumplings again. Anyway, expect your regular Friday update, barring another episode of out-of-date chicken...or, you know, the apocalypse._

"Marked"

Chapter 10: When Words Matter

_Emily's POV_

The confrontation with Leah had really shaken her up, but Sam's words filtered through her head over the next few days. It didn't escape her, the way he'd begun shaping himself around her wants and needs. He'd been paying attention. It wasn't something she'd been expecting, but she had a warm feeling in her gut now. Maybe, just maybe, they could make this work.

She was pulling weeds in the back flower beds when her father walked stiffly around the side of the house. His hands were rigid on his lean hips and his lips were pressed together in a thin, angry line.

"What the hell happened to your car, Emily?"

Standing up slowly, she turned to face him, wanting nothing more than to throw herself in his arms, but holding herself back. Things were different now. "Dad? What are you doing here? And what are you talking about?"

He wiped a hand down his weathered face and nodded toward the front yard. "I brought your stuff. And I'm talking about the shit spray painted all over your Civic. I'm assuming you wouldn't use language like that to decorate it."

She turned and stomped around the house, falling into a stunned silence at the sight before her. Her practical, little car was covered in neon slurs. "Slut" and "Whore" seemed to be the most prominent. Although she was impressed by the "Get off our Rez" tagged on the hood; it had been written in an impressively flowery calligraphy.

"Oh. My. God."

"What the hell's going on around here, kid?"

"It's complicated, Dad."

"Yeah? Well uncomplicate it for me. One minute you're on a short visit to your cousin's and the next thing I know, you've moved in with her man and you're being shunned by everyone. This isn't like you, Em."

"It just happened. I...I think I love him, Dad."

"Is it enough, though? Look at what your life's turned into. I just want you to be happy."

She leaned into his arms and relished in the feel of the one man who'd always been there for her. "I know. But he sees me, really sees me, and I can't remember the last time someone other than you did that. Can you honestly say that you wouldn't of gone after mom, even if there were obstacles standing in your way?"

He sucked in a breath and squeezed her close. "That serious, huh?"

She nodded. "This could be it."

"Well, then, you've always been a smart girl. I trust you to know what's right for you. Help me unload this shit, and you can tell me all about him. Need to know who's ass I gotta kick if he hurts my baby girl."

"Thanks, Dad."

"That's what parents are for, sweetheart."

They spent the afternoon moving her belongings into the house. Her father was impressed by the studio Sam had built for her. Maybe, he thought, his little girl would be okay.

_Sam's POV_

That evening, Sam came home to a different world. There were romance novels on his book shelves, the whole house smelled of apples and cinnamon (apparently from the candles littering the tables), and there was a shiny pot rack hanging above the island in his kitchen.

Surprisingly, it made him smile. He remembered the first time Leah tried to take over a drawer in his room. He'd loved her, but it had made him itch to see her lacy undergarments folded neatly next to his undershirts. For weeks afterward, he'd felt the irrational need to defend his territory. Lucky he was still all human at the time, or he might've taken to pissing in circles around his domain.

This though, it felt like home. Her stuff blended seamlessly with his and he felt his heart clench at the thought that they might actually be building something here. He could picture brown eyed babies and laughter floating through the rooms. Early morning love making and Sunday dinners with the pack.

Imprinting had, apparently, turned him into a pussy.

"Sam?" Her voice filtered down the hall from the bedroom.

"In the living room."

She entered slowly, stopping in the doorway. Nervousness radiated out from her body; her posture uncertain, she placed one bare foot on top of the other and glanced up through her lashes. Adorable.

"What's all this?" he asked, not really caring, but he could tell she was pleased with the new additions.

"My dad brought my stuff by today. Is this okay?"

"Yeah," he murmured, moving slowly closer. "It looks great in here."

Her entire face lit up, her smile stretching the pink scars, and she raised up to press a kiss against his stubbled cheek. "Good. Are you hungry? I made a roast."

"That sounds really great." He followed her into the kitchen and watched her dance around putting together a couple plates. She was poetry in motion here. He was mesmerized.

"Oh, I dropped my car off at the shop."

"Something wrong?"

Shrugging her shoulders, she sat a massive serving down in front of him and joined him at the table. "No big deal. Some asshole's gave it a new paint job. I preferred the old one."

He'd kill the fuckers. "Shit, I'm sorry."

She held up a hand and gestured pointedly at his plate. "Eat. It's not your fault, and it's being taken care of."

"Alright." He sighed and dug in. Shit, the woman could really cook. The meat fell apart in his mouth before he could even start chewing. He could see the tension lining her face and he tried not to let it piss him off. Would the hostility ever stop, he wondered?

They ate in a companionable silence, stealing small glances at each other when they thought the other wasn't looking.

"You look tired," she murmured as she took his plate.

"It was a long day."

"Wanna watch a movie?"

He smiled and stood up to help her wash the dishes. "I'd really like that."

Once the kitchen was clean, they curled up together on the couch and watched some action movie Paul had left behind. Sam didn't see any of it; he was completely focused on the small body curled up in his arms. This. This was everything he never thought he wanted. He'd do anything for more nights like this.

"Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah?" He cleared his throat, attempting to rid it of the emotion bubbling up.

"Would you go to dinner with me tomorrow?"

A soft smile lit up his face. "Like a date?"

She tilted her head up and looked at him upside down, returning his smile. "Like a date."

"I'd love to."

They settled back in, basking in each other. Maybe, Sam thought, pulling her closer, everything would work out.

XXXXXXXXXX

The next evening, he dressed with care. She'd said casual, but he didn't want to show up half-naked in shorts he'd doctored with a pair of kitchen scissors. Reaching into the back of the closet, he pulled out a pair of dark wash jeans, with no rips or holes—he was pleased to note—and slipped on a white, long-sleeved thermal shirt.

It would have to do, he muttered, risking a glance in the mirror. He took a brief moment to worry about the strength of the shirt's seam,s before he ran his fingers through his cropped hair and walked into the living room to meet Emily.

"Hi."

She was stunning. There was no other description for the woman who stood, so obviously nervous, in front of him. Her long hair hung in a silky curtain to the small of her back, light make-up made her eyes pop, so you noticed the soft dark brown before the pink of the scars registered.

She wore jeans as well, topped with a thick, green sweater, which hung low over her hips, clinging in all the right places and his eyes caught a small hint of black lace peeking out from the V-neck. Christ. She'd be the death of him.

"Hi," he replied, his voice a low, soothing rumble. "We ready?"

"Yeah." She led the way to the door, pausing to grab the handle of a large picnic basket.

He whisked it right out of her surprised hands and placed a hand at the small of her back. "Where to?"

If possible, she looked even more nervous than when he first entered the room. "I thought we'd go back to the place where it all began."

Stumbling slightly, he stopped walking and blatantly stared. "Why?"

A light blush suffused her cheeks and she pulled in a slow breath before she spoke. "I thought, maybe, we could start over?"

She was offering him an olive branch of sorts, he realized. Not an actual "do over," but a way to make up for the pain and rage and irrational desire that had consumed him on the night he imprinted.

"That sounds perfect," he murmured, voice filled with an unmistakable sincerity. If he learned nothing else from this evening, it was that he wasn't the only one that was trying, and Emily cared.

They made their way hand-in-hand to the cliffs, and, for a moment when they arrived, he felt his breath disappear. He was momentarily swallowed by the memory of her heat and soft curves wrapped tight around him. The sound of her voice as she screamed his name and the sight of her sweet little ass slamming back into him.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?" He shook himself free of the past to see that she'd spread a quilt on the ground and had begun to unpack the basket.

Settling himself down quickly, her on her knees in front of him was just too much, he reached out to help. Her small hand coming down on his with force had him laughing in shock, and perhaps a little bit of glee. He hadn't realized there was a playful side to her.

"I've got this," she said with a smile. "You just sit there and look pretty."

She'd brought what looked like enough food to feed an army, and he knew it would be good. What caught his attention, though, was a still warm loaf of homemade bread and two slices of apple pie that smelled heavily of cinnamon.

"Emily," he breathed.

"I wanted to..." She cleared her throat and looked hesitantly into his eyes. "I wanted to make this right for us both. A comfort zone if you will, and a little piece of common ground." Placing a container of fried chicken in between them, she brushed her hand across his and turned back to grab the drinks. "And something slightly different too." A bottle of sparkling cider was placed next to the chicken.

He couldn't not touch her. There were no words he could think of to show just how much her forethought meant to him, so he leaned across her offerings and feathered a delicate kiss across her lips. "This is...it's everything."

She released a breath he hadn't realized she was holding and raised a lightly shaking hand to trace the path his lips had just taken. "Everything," she repeated in a soft dazed voice before shaking herself out of her stupor. "Let's dig in."

They ate in a mostly companionable silence, but beneath the easy conversation and relaxed atmosphere, a steadily rising tension was making itself known. That first night, when he'd taken her so fiercely, he'd thought he couldn't want anything, want _someone_ more than he did in that moment.

He was wrong.

As the rising sun fell below the height of the cliffs, her sweet face slowly overtaken by the incoming shadows, he realized that what had started as something purely physical, an overwhelming need rising from his wolf, was quickly becoming a matter of his heart. If it made him a sappy bastard, then so be it, but he wanted to climb inside her mind as well as her body. To sink in deep and dig himself into her heart.

Maybe, he mused, as they headed home, once again hand-in-hand, there was more to imprinting than he thought. Maybe the gods had got it right.

Their idyllic evening was broken by the sight of a hunched form huddled on their front porch.

"Paul?" he called out, worry hurrying his stride.

The man let out an incoherent sound, jerking his head up and then right back down in an attempt to hide the tears streaking down his cheeks.

Leaning down to Emily's height, he whispered, "You should probably go on in. This will probably take awhile."

"No."

"I'm sorry?"

"No. I think you should go inside."

He opened his mouth to argue, but there was something in her eyes, a steadiness and an aura of understanding that was aimed right at the pain wracked body of his most volatile brother.

"Are you sure?"

"Go on." She gave him a light push and a reassuring smile before heading toward the shadowed form on the porch.

He did what she told him to. It was startling to realize that he trusted her with something he wouldn't anyone else; the well-being of one of his wolves lay solidly in her hands. He passed them by in silence, squeezing Paul's shoulder briefly without slowing his stride and walked in the house—he never once looked back.


	11. Chapter 11: Welcome to the Pack

**Disclaimer: **_All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._

_**A/N: **__Thanks to my amazing beta, Maria Vilson, and my awesome prereader, feebes86. This story wouldn't be what it is without them. _"Marked"

Chapter 11: Welcome to the Pack

_Emily's POV_

The large, muscled man on her front porch looked utterly broken. It made her hurt for him, even though she felt like she didn't really know him, because it was a type of broken she recognized. It took her straight back to a house filled with heavy silence. An absence of smiles and laughter. A stranger wearing her father's skin as the grief overtook them both.

Instead of speaking, she settled down silently next to him on the step. He didn't acknowledge her presence, and she didn't expect him to. She knew that he'd speak if and when he needed to; this was a silent show of support. Emily understood.

Rustling sounds emanated from the house, the only thing to break the quiet that stretched between them. But eventually, his shoulder brushing hers in a silent gesture of thanks, he spoke.

"My mother called."

Tilting her head, she angled her body toward him and waited. She'd thought death when she sat down to offer comfort, but she quickly realized, as he continued to speak, that there was more than one type of loss, and they all hurt just the same.

"I haven't heard from her in four years and she just picked up the phone and dialed, out of the blue. I don't understand it. She sent a postcard from Milwaukee when I was eleven, a fifty dollar check for my birthday two months after I turned twelve, and now she wants to see me." A harsh laugh escaped as his posture tightened before slumping down, even lower than before. "Says she misses her baby."

It was hard to remember how young he was, how young they all were. The last contact from her was four years ago, when he was twelve. Angry, promiscuous Paul Lahote was only sixteen. Sweet sixteen, with a mother in the wind and hunting down mythological blood-drinking creatures to tear apart with his teeth.

"What am I supposed to do?" he asked, a desperate edge to his voice.

"What do you want to do?"

"I don't know. Rewind the clock so that she never left. Come downstairs on Sunday morning to pancakes and _Tom and Jerry _on the TV. Pretend that she never called. I was doing okay until she called."

"You can, you know, do the last one. You don't owe her anything."

He let out a soft growl and turned to stare directly at her. His intense gaze should have been intimidating, but it wasn't. She could see the pain leaking in around the anger. "Why am I talking to you? What the hell do you know?"

"Have you heard the story about my mother?"

The look he shot her was full of doubt. Doubt, she realized, for her ability to empathize with his life. It seemed a harsh thought, but he needed to understand that the whole world felt pain, it wasn't restricted to him.

"My parent's love story is a bit of a legend around here, from what I understand. She was beautiful. All laughter and dancing in the rain. My father was grounded, a level-headed working man. He came to La Push to work on a business deal between our tribe and your council. They met on First Beach. She told me, once, that when she first saw him, she wanted to run her fingers through his hair. Mess him up. And that's exactly what she did."

She sucked in a deep breath and was startled to feel a rough hand on hers as she continued. "There was a lot of opposition to their match. Her brother, Harry, didn't want her to move away, and in between their dates, he was constantly setting her up with eligible Quileute men. But she was stubborn and she was in love. They were married within three months and nine months after the honeymoon, they had me."

"What happened to her?"

"A brain aneurysm. She died in her sleep, curled up next to my father. He said...he said that when he woke up, he knew, but it took a moment to settle in because she was smiling."

"I'm sorry."

"But you don't understand what it has to do with you and your mother."

He sighed and pulled his hand back. Clearly he was getting uncomfortable, but it seemed as if her sharing had helped him relax with her; as much as he was capable of relaxing during an emotional conversation with another person. "No. I don't. Your mother died, through no fault of her own, but mine made a choice. She left."

"You're right." He flinched at her bluntness, but she wasn't finished. "She made a choice. But now the ball's in your court, and here's where I think my story matters. You can't choose who you love, and when my mother died, I was so angry. I felt abandoned and for awhile, though it shames me to admit it, I hated her. Now, I'd do anything—anything—for just five minutes with her."

"You think I should see her."

"I think you have a choice. But you need to realize that it could lead to a lifetime of regret if you make the wrong one."

The quiet blanketed them once again and it was a good while before Paul rose from his uncomfortable position, grimacing at the popping sounds that came from his locked up joints. He leaned down and gave her a gentle hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks, Emily."

"Anytime," she murmured, watching him walk away.

For the first time since she'd walked into this mess, Emily felt like she'd done something worthwhile. This wasn't pot roast and sandwiches after a long patrol, or a silent figure cleaning up behind the pack of overworked teenage boys. Although she was starting to realize how necessary those things were, this was something bigger. She'd taken some of the burden away, helped one of them fight a different type of battle. It felt good.

Her reverie was interrupted by a heated body pressed against her back. Sam's legs came down on either side of her and a steaming cup was held in front of her.

"What's this?"

"A thank you." His voice was thick with emotion. "You didn't have to do that."

She took a sip from the mug and hummed her pleasure. "Chocolate."

"The cure for all things."

"You were listening?"

He blew out a puff of air and she fought the urge to shift around when she felt it rustle her hair. "It's a wolf thing; I couldn't help it. But I'm glad I did."

So warm, she thought, leaning back into him. "Why?"

"Because, I couldn't have done that. You gave him something that he desperately needed, and I wouldn't even have realized what it was, if it weren't for you. We spend so much time hunting for vampire trails and battling the image all this secrecy has created around here, that I often forget about the other things they might need."

Taking a slow, thoughtful sip of her hot chocolate, she smiled as a tiny marshmallow ran into her mouth. "Is it your job? To take care of their emotional needs?"

"I'm their Alpha," he said, as if it explained everything. "And they're my brothers."

Perhaps it did. Who else was there to care?

It was as if he could read her mind when he answered her silent thought. "You. You care about me, about them. It's the most beautiful thing about you, the way you care about other people. If I'm their Alpha, there's a reason we imprinted, and I'm starting to see what that reason is."

His words touched something deep inside of her. It could have been corny, she was so often uncomfortable with overt emotion and praise, but it wasn't. Sam was letting her know that she was needed for more than a warm body in the middle of the night. That it was about more than just the two of them.

"Dance with me?" he asked.

She knew that her next line should be something about the lack of music, but she didn't want to reenact an old romance movie now. The time for coyness and games was long gone, if there had ever been a time for that between them.

"No," she said, rising from her warm perch between his legs.

The disappointment on his face didn't have time to settle in before she was taking his hand and silently urging him to rise. He didn't ask her what she wanted, didn't question the fact that she'd just told him no, just followed where she led. Through the darkened living room, down the hall, and into his bedroom.

She hesitated in the doorway, turning to glance at his face where a silent question was spelled out.

"Do you..."

"Yes."

Then, nothing else mattered, because his mouth was on hers and the fact that she couldn't breathe had become entirely inconsequential. There was passion, fire, but the weight of emotion from the evening carried over into his touch. His lips, ghosting across her face and down her neck were soft, and he held her as if she were something precious.

She could feel something warm building inside of her as he began to undress her, a reverent look in his dark eyes. Reciprocating in the only way she knew how, she finally moved, pulling his shirt up and trailing her fingers across his chest. He was so beautiful.

They made love that night for the very first time. When he sank into her, it was like their bodies melded together. There was no him or her, only a single body rocking silently on his grandmother's quilt, breath unconsciously timed with slow, steady thrusts.

After, when the passion had run its course, he curled her into his body, her scarred cheek resting against his chest. She thought that there was nowhere else in the world she'd rather be, than here, breathing with him.

And this time, when she whispered, "I love you," into his skin, there was no "I think" it was a solid knowledge, a certainty that she no longer wished to ignore.

Emily Young had found home.


End file.
